III

The Elevator Boy

“Known the old man long, sir?” queried
the boy as we ascended.

“By reputation,” said I.

“Humph!” said the lad. “Can’t
have a very good opinion of him, then. It’s
a good thing you are going to have a little personal
experience with him. He’s not a bad lot,
after all. Rotten things said of him, but then—­you
know, eh?”

“Oh, as for that,” said I, “I don’t
think his reputation is so dreadful. To be sure,
there have been one or two little indiscretions connected
with his past, and at times he has seemed a bit vindictive
in chucking thunder-bolts at his enemies, but, on the
whole, I fancy he’s behaved himself pretty well.”

“True,” said the boy. “And
then you’ve got to take his bringing-up into
consideration. Things which would be altogether
wrong in the son of a Presbyterian clergyman would
not be unbecoming in a descendant of old Father Time.
Jupiter is, after all, a self-made immortal, and the
fact that his parents, old Mr. and Mrs. Cronos, let
him grow up sort of wild, naturally left its impress
on his character.”

“Of course,” said I, somewhat amused to
hear the Thunderer’s character analyzed by a
mere infant. “But how about yourself, my
laddie? Are you anybody in particular? You
look like a cherub.”

“Some folks call me Dan,” said the boy,
“and I am somebody in particular.
Fact is, sir, if it hadn’t been for me there
wouldn’t have been anybody in particular anywhere.
I’m Cupid, sir, God of Love, favorite son of
Venus, at your service.”